


Hidden Strength

by lanie_q_westwood



Category: Code: Realize
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Confessions, Crying, Deviates From Canon, Empath, F/M, Happy Ending, Jealousy, Kissing, Light Angst, Light-Hearted, Melodrama, Misunderstandings, POV First Person, Post-Canon, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Insert, Sexual Content, Teasing, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 12:56:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10877232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanie_q_westwood/pseuds/lanie_q_westwood
Summary: Milla (reader self-insert, original character) starts to wonder if Cardia might be a better match for her beloved Van Helsing than she is, and if he himself thinks so as well.





	Hidden Strength

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new to posting here, so please let me know if you think this needs some better tags regarding the bit of sexual content near the end! I think this is pretty tame compared to a lot of fics on the site, so went light on the tagging.

Milla watched Van Helsing out in the courtyard training Cardia, day after day. She felt a little creepy doing it, maybe it was too intrusive of her, but she loved watching him move. So lean and agile, even in a tie and heavy trench coat, the laser focus of his brilliant blue eyes glinting from behind his glasses, his fragile yet imposing profile when his jaw was set tight in concentration. The subtle way he held himself back from deflecting Cardia’s blows with his whole strength, such undercurrents of power in his restraint. He didn’t go easy on her, but he was careful not to hurt her too badly either. Just enough for her to learn her lessons.

But Cardia was strong; even she could see that. Stronger than any other young woman her age and build. Stronger by far than Milla herself. She knew it was silly to feel inferior, Cardia wasn’t a normal girl. She was created in a lab - the end result of untold failed prototypes - specifically to be a weapon.

And yet, Milla could see how well they matched, the Human Weapon who had honed his skills after years of training and experience, and this young woman created artificially to be a different kind of human weapon. She could see how Van Helsing was impressed by her strength and speed and ability to learn so quickly the lessons he was teaching her. It was to be expected that someone like him would react this way. But she worried about where that left her.

Sure Cardia wasn’t fully human, but she looked the part, and a very pretty one at that. She was sweet, and strong, and smart, and there was something appealingly tragic about her, despite her superhuman abilities. Of course the poison in Cardia’s skin made it impossible for him to touch her, would limit the kind of relationship and interactions they could have, but she also knew Victor was working tirelessly to come up with a cure or antidote. Victor himself obviously had strong feelings for her, and this coupled with his brilliance as an alchemist made it obvious that it was only a matter of time before he was successful.

And then what?

Would all of that time spent together in something as physical as defense training, with the restraints on how their bodies could touch, with such awareness of each other’s body – would all of that build up a delicious tension to be released once their skin could actually touch, all the holding back and restraint making the contact that much more powerful when it happened?

Of course Milla didn’t know how Cardia herself felt. Just because Milla found him irresistible didn’t mean Cardia did. Certainly Cardia and Victor spent a lot of time together as well, and seemed very close, though Milla wasn’t sure the exact nature of their feelings for each other. Was it the feelings of siblings, of uncle and niece, scientist and test subject, doctor and patient? Both seemed so innocent about the relations between men and women, Cardia with her inexperience and Victor with his boyish giggle about almost anything.

And then there was Lupin, dashing and handsome, the one who initially rescued Cardia in the first place and was always the one most careful to watch out for her. How could he not have a special place in her heart after being the one to free her form her prison and make all of these new experiences available to her?

Not to mention the mysterious St. Germain with his otherworldly appearance and his own hints of being something not quite human, with a knowledge of experiences and worlds unknown to most, of being timeless. He wouldn’t be put off by Cardia’s condition, and might even be best suited for her because of it.

But despite all of this rationalization, Milla still couldn’t quell her anxieties, still couldn’t quiet the jealous worried voices in her head. She wouldn’t get in the way of his happiness, of his true desires, she loved him too much to do that, but just the thought of losing him made her heart feel like it was breaking.

She turned away from the window, barely holding back her tears long enough to make it back to her room before sitting down quietly sobbing on the couch.

 

 

It was hours later when she woke up, still on the couch. She could feel her face sticky and puffy from her crying. It was early evening and the sun was nearly ready to set. She had specifically chosen this room for its large windows facing west. The shadows in the room were starting to lengthen and delicate layers of mauve and amber light drifted in through the windows and cast a soft warm glow on the white walls and furniture. Suddenly she became aware of a soft steady knocking at the door. How long had it been going on for? Is that what woke her?

“Yes?” she called, her voice breaking and quieter than she had intended.

“Milla?” came the reply, a quiet deep voice. “May I come in?” Van. She straightened up, wiped her face with her handkerchief and tried to smooth her dress and hair. She couldn’t let him see her like this, so undone. She cleared her throat.

“Yes, come in,” she said, trying to sound stronger and more composed than she felt. She had repositioned herself on the couch to face him as he came in, but once the door opened and she saw him there in her room, the golden light highlighting his dark blonde hair and sparking along the edges of his glasses, the soft pink light giving a delicate cast to his features and making his blue eyes glow violet, she was overcome with emotion and had to turn away from the sight of him before she started crying again, closing her eyes tightly to will back the tears, pressing her handkerchief against her lips in a tight fist.

Milla heard the door close behind him but did not hear his stealthy footsteps and so was startled to find him standing at the end of the couch, staring at her, after she opened her eyes when he said her name.

“Milla?” he asked. “What is this? Have you been crying?” She shook her head no but when he cocked an eyebrow at her she nodded.

He looked angry. She knew she shouldn’t have let him see her so weak.

“Why have you been crying?” She shrugged, unable to meet his gaze. “Did someone do something? What happened?” But she could only shake her head helplessly. He sighed and sat down on the opposite end of the couch facing her.

“Milla, if I don’t know what’s wrong, I can’t fix it. And you know how I feel about not being able to fix things.”

She took a deep breath. “I know, I know,” she said, “but it’s nothing you can fix. Nothing that can be fixed, that needs fixing. It’s just...it’s just me.”

“Just you? What about you?”

“Nothing,” she sighed, “I’m just being stupid." Van smirked.

“Most likely,” he scoffed, “but what exactly are you being stupid about?” She stared at her hands, the handkerchief being worried between her fingers.

“Milla,” he said sternly, “You know that I’ve been trained by the finest military and intelligence experts in foolproof interrogation techniques, I will have you tell me one way or another. So it’s up to you how easy or...hard...you want to make this for yourself.” Milla felt a delightful frisson of terror at the reminder of Van’s interrogation techniques. But now wasn’t the time, that wasn’t how she wanted to tell him. She didn’t want to tell him at all, of course, but –

“I’ve been watching you training Cardia” she blurted out.

“O?” he replied. She couldn’t read his expression at all.

“Yes,” she hesitated. “Several times.”

“And why is that so remarkable?” he asked. “Is it really that interesting to you? I’d think that sort of thing would be boring to you.”

“I liked watching you,” she admitted. “How you moved. There was a...grace to it, a precision, an art.” Van didn’t reply, just stared steadily at her. She could sense an emotion, strong, just barely hidden beneath the surface, but she couldn’t assess what emotion it was. She was good at detecting moods with the subtlest of clues, but he was just better enough at hiding them to make it impossible for her at times. So far. She knew that over time the better she got to know him the easier it would be for her to read him and the harder it would be for him to hide things from her. But for now, he was still a challenge, and she loved that. Except for moments like this, when she felt like an exposed nerve. He waited.

“Sometimes I thought maybe I shouldn’t be watching, that it was intrusive of me, even though you were doing it out in the open, in the courtyard. But I couldn’t help it, I found myself looking for...” she stopped and he leaned his head towards her. “...looking for, well, clues,” she said, “signs.”

“Signs? Signs of what?”

“Well, of how you felt. Of, of what the nature of your relationship was.” O, this was no good, she couldn’t bear to see how he was looking at her, she felt so foolish, so weak...

“Teacher and student,” he said evenly. “Team mates. Friends. Is that what you saw?” She nodded stupidly.

“Yes,” she admitted, “I just started to worry, to wonder...”

“Wonder about...”

“If there was something else.”

“Something else, like...?”

God, she wanted to end this whole conversation, wished it had never started. But now there was nothing to do but push through it, quickly. She took a deep breath.

“You seem very close.”

He looked confused. Annoyed?

“Well, yes, of course,” he replied. “The dangers are very real and will be here sooner than we can anticipate. She has a lot to learn in a short period of time, and so of course the training must be very intense. Plus the nature of defense training itself requires a certain closeness, an awareness and perception of the other. Or else something could go seriously wrong.” He stopped talking and resumed staring intently at her. She felt her face grow hotter. Could he see this, or would he just assume it was the color of the sunset reflected on her pale skin?

“She seems like a very quick learner.”

He seemed to consider this, then nodded. “It’s true,” he said, “she does seem to have a certain aptitude for it. Then again, she was designed to be a weapon, so some of that is to be expected.”

“You sound like you admire her a great deal,” she said, a note of petulance creeping into her voice despite her intentions. He looked surprised, eyebrows raised. She could tell he had started to figure out what she was on about, but was waiting for her to continue, to humiliate herself. He wasn’t going to make this easy on her. She felt herself proving her own point.

He nodded. “Yes, I suppose I do. As someone who’s trained for so long to become considered a sort of Human Weapon, I’m sure you can understand how I could admire and appreciate a weapon in human form, someone who is innately what I’ve worked so hard to become and only needs honing and guidance to fulfill that destiny. And in such a non-threatening package as well. No one would suspect a pretty young girl of being so deadly.” He trails off and looks thoughtful.

Milla's self-control that was hanging by a rapidly fraying thread snapped. “You see, that’s just it!” she exclaimed louder than she had intended. Van’s eyes quickly refocused and trained on her.

“What’s just it?” he said steadily. There was that expression she couldn’t read again. Anger? Annoyance? Disappointment? Offense?

“I just...I just find myself wondering, because of everything you’ve mentioned, that you’ve admitted, if you and she aren’t...if you’re not a better fit.”

“A better fit than what?” O, he knew what she meant, why was he making her say it?

“Than you and me” she whispered. “If she isn’t a better fit for you than I am.”

She could see it now, that expression, she could read it. It was offense. Offense mixed with something else. With...sadness? How can that be? She's never seen him sad about anything. But when he spoke after a long time, his voice was even and low and she started to wonder if she had misread him. She had never been so off her game with anyone before.

“So. You’ve started to have doubts.” She started to protest but he held up his hand to stop her. “You’ve started to wonder if perhaps Cardia would be a better fit for me than you are. If she and I would be a better match, a better couple. If I would prefer her.” Milla nodded sheepishly. It was too far gone to change the subject, to tell him she didn’t mean it, to back out of it. She would have to see this through, even if the truth would break her heart, even if she had already ruined things by admitting her insecurities, her stupid fears.

“Why?” he asked. She could barely meet his gaze but she had to look up at him, had to read what’s in his face. He didn't look angry at all, but almost tender, wounded.

“She’s so strong,” Milla said quietly. “You’re both so strong. I watch you move during your lessons and you’re so in tune. I know it’s because of what you said earlier, about the nature of your training. But I see your strength and I see her strength, and I see them play off of each other. I could never do that...with you. I could never come close to matching your strength the way that she does. It seems like you’re so well matched, and I...” He nodded, encouraging her to continue, biting his tongue until she was finished. She was talking so low, it was all she could do to get the words out, and she wasn't even sure if he could hear her anymore.

“I know how much a part of you that strength is, the fighting, the defense, the physicality and agility. But I can’t match you in any of that the way that she can. I just..I feel so... soft... and weak by comparison,” she muttered. She glanced once more at him before she had to drop her eyes and stare at her hands in her lap. Her face was so warm. The sun had set now almost completely and she was sure that her cheeks were glowing red in the dim light. The room was quiet aside from the slow steady sound of his breathing as he considered what she had said. He didn't speak at all for what felt like hours. Finally, he sighed, a deep sigh.

“Milla,” he said. “Milla, look at me.” She met his gaze. His look was intense, but somehow gentle at the same time.

“You are correct,” he started and she felt her bottom lip start to tremble. He held up a hand.

“Let me finish, please. You are correct that she is physically stronger than you are. That she and I are more evenly matched in that respect. Who knows, with enough training and experience she could very well end up stronger than I am. She has an innate advantage. But...I would never, never in a million years describe you as ‘weak’. No one would. Well, at least not while I’m within earshot...” he smirked, then looked serious again.

“You may not be physically strong, but you’re mentally strong, your mind is so quick and sharp, so creative. You’re psychologically strong, emotionally strong...”

She scoffed.

“What?” he asked.

She held up her soggy handkerchief, gestured vaguely at her flushed, puffy tear-stained face. “This looks emotionally strong to you? I’m a mess...” she trailed off. He shook his head.

“You feel your emotions, you show them, you don’t deny them or hide from them. That takes strength. Most people are scared of their emotions, they fear them, they try to push them down so they don’t exist rather than confront them head on and allow them to show.” His voice got quieter, and he looked away a bit.  
“It’s a strength I myself lack.”

“You? I would consider you just more in control of your emotions, you’re not victim to them like I am.”

“Sometimes,” he said quietly, “sometimes I’m in control of them. Other times I’m afraid of them, of losing control of them...You’re not a victim, you let them come up, you feel them, you admit them, you let them be a part of you and guide you. Despite how powerful they are. In my eyes, that takes a real strength, something harder to develop than a physical strength.”

She didn't know what to say to this. She wanted to believe him, but she still felt so week. But at the same time, the compliment reassured her, had her starting to worry less, to feel better. He got up from the end of the couch and sat down next to her. She wiped her eyes ineffectually with the damp handkerchief.

“Do you believe me?” he asked, his gaze searching. He took his glasses off and placed them on the side table, then turned his eyes back to her. She nodded a bit.

“Do you?” he asked more intently. She nodded more definitively.

“Good,” he said. “So that is point one of your silly - yet oddly endearing - worries,” he said quietly. “Being weak. Yes?” She nodded.

He leaned in toward her. She could smell the touch of the sun on his skin from being outside all day, the slightly metallic scent of perspiration, the subtle musky citrus scent of his soap.

“Now, as far as your being soft,” he sighed, “that I would have to agree with, wholeheartedly, without reservation.”

What? She pulled back a bit, but he firmly placed a strong hand on the back of her neck and pulled his face closer to mine.

“You are most definitely soft,” he murmured against her cheek, “very soft...” He slid a finger down her cheek, back towards her jaw, down along the side of her neck. Her breath hitched in her chest as he leaned closer, his breath warm against her neck just below her earlobe, his fingers light on her collarbone.

“Soft and warm,” he said quietly, his voice deep and vibrating against the tiny hairs on her skin. “And I love that, your softness. I yearn for it, I need it. It’s a comfort to me, to come back to that after everything that is so harsh and sharp out in the rest of the world, after all the strife and the fighting, when I’m tired and angry and sore...everything else is such a struggle, requires all of my defenses, such hyper vigilance, but then I can come back here to you... and you’re so soft and warm that all of that melts away...I come back from all of that so sore and hardened, and I just want to bury myself in you, to let your warmth and softness envelope me, to lose myself in you endlessly.”

As he spoke he continued murmuring his voice against her neck, letting his lips brush gently against her skin, punctuating his pauses with soft light long kisses, as he slowly shifted his body higher up over hers, one hand around her side just below her breast, his other hand slowly and steadily making its way beneath her skirt, higher and higher up her leg. She found herself mindlessly spreading her legs, pushing her right leg up up against the back of the couch to give him room, slowly shifting her body ever so subtly down beneath his, trying to imperceptibly encourage his hands higher onto her breast and the join between her thighs.

“Everything else puts up such a cold painful wall,” he whispered into her ear, “but you are so yielding to me, you allow me to slide my hardness up inside of you where it’s soft...and warm...and wet, and I can feel you just gently melting around me, and it allows me to melt into you as well...you are soft, and that is my salvation from everything. If only I could stay inside that softness forever...the rest of the world is always intruding, but I can always come back to you, that is what I keep in mind when I’m fighting, that you will be there for me after everything, so soft.”

He now had her bodice unbuttoned, her undergarments pulled down her legs and discarded onto the floor, his body on top of hers and wedged between her thighs, as she unfastened his trousers and pushed them down from his waist. His strength was again a little intimidating as he pushed himself up with one hand and pulled his trousers off with the other, before slowly easing himself down onto her again, not inside of her, but his cock resting between her thighs just at the tip of her opening. She tried to slide herself down onto him, but he held her in place, his hands firm on her exposed breasts as he bit and sucked them, pressing his face between them and licking down to her navel. She spread her legs wider, raising her knees to the height of his shoulders, and this made a bit of her wetness slide against him. As she tried to pull him inside of her, she made a point of pressing her arms against the sides of her breasts, pushing her hardened nipples up towards him. His nostrils flared and he groaned, finally giving in and sliding himself hard and hot inside of her, before beginning to thrust.

And there, she supposed...

"This too is a kind of strength," she thought to herself before she lost the ability to think about much of anything.

**Author's Note:**

> While I adored most of the boys in Code:Realize, I found myself especially infatuated with Van, so much so that I actually started to get jealous of Cardia and had to turn off her avatar while playing so that the differences between her and me didn't get in the way of my enjoying the story and my ability to live vicariously through her.  
> I always self-insert when playing otomes, and rename the MC to some variation on my own name, and usually even when they are very different from me, I don't have any trouble "role playing" as them. But in Van Helsing's route, it was nearly impossible. And afterwards, there were these lingering unresolved feelings that resulted in this short piece, an attempt to make myself feel better about feeling inferior to a fictional character who I actually really related to in all of the other boys' routes, especially the notion of feeling like a "monster" whose very touch was something to be avoided at all costs.
> 
> Since Milla is a non-canon character, I've been playing around with some things to introduce her as a fully fleshed out character and work her into some post-canon fics.


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